Life in Paradise
by Kiki102
Summary: Fourth in Love in Paradise series. Camille has an announcement for Richard. Oneshot.


**A/N: I know that the circumstances of Camille's father are explained differently in series 3 as to how I mention them here, but in my head, Camille doesn't know the truth here. **

**Enjoy x**

**XOXOXOX**

"You're early," Richard said, the surprise evident in his voice as he let Camille in. "You're never early. I don't think you've ever been early," he continued, tying his tie.

"I needed to talk to you," Camille replied, sitting on the edge of his desk, being careful not to disturb any of the papers. She'd made that mistake once before and had to deal with his wrath for days.

"That sounds ominous," he frowned, squirting toothpaste onto the brush.

"I have some news."

"Good news?"

"Yes. At least I think so."

"What is?" he mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste.

"I'm pregnant."

Richard choked on his toothpaste. Camille jumped off the table, going to his side and rubbing his back until he stopped choking and handing him a glass of water to rinse his mouth out with. He straightened up and faced her. 

"Are you sure?"

"Why do men always ask that?" she groaned. "No, I just thought I would say it for the hell of it. Of course I'm sure!"

"I'm just checking! It's not like I've ever been in this situation before!"

"Neither have I!" she shot back.

"How long have you known?" he asked.

"For certain? Since yesterday. But I suspected for a few days."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want you to freak out incase I was wrong."

"I'm not freaking out!"

Camille sighed. This was going exactly as she'd feared. All that was left was for him to say that he wasn't ready for a child and he was sorry but he couldn't do this and it would be deja vu all over again. Except this time she was the mother, not the baby.

"Look, I know this is a shock for you," she said gently. "It was for me too. But it's not like we've just started dating. We've been together for six months." She hesitated, hating what she was about to say. "But if you can't do this, I need to know now. Not in nine months time, not in two years time. Now."

"Camille..." he began. Closing her eyes, she tried to fight the feeling of disappointment and anger.

"You know what," she interrupted, her eyes filling with tears. "It doesn't matter." She tossed him the keys. "I'm not feeling so good. Morning sickness. I think I'll take the day off."

"I'll give you a ride," Richard suggested, taking a step towards her.

"It's fine," she replied, forcing a smile, stepping back towards the door. "Fresh air will clear my head."

"Camille-"

"You should get going. You'll be late." Then she was gone and he was left holding her keys and feeling like an idiot.

XOXOXOX

At lunch time, Richard managed to get away from the office without having to think up an excuse, as he'd been trying and failing to do all morning. When he knocked on the door, Catherine opened the door. When she saw him, she folded her arms and gave him the same glare as the time he critiqued her chicken soup.

"Ah. You know then?"

"Of course." Her tone left no doubt as to how she felt.

"Listen, can you put the voodoo dolls away until after I've talked to Camille? She didn't exactly give me much of a chance to speak this morning."

"It's not only what you say but what you do," Catherine replied accusingly.

"I was in shock, I didn't do anything," Richard explained.

"Exactly!"

"And now I'm going to make up for it," he said, slipping past her. Catherine caught his wrist as he passed.

"If you hurt her, or my grandchild, insulting me and my soup will be the least of your worries."

"I wasn't insulting you, it was more a critique. Anyway that was months ago, can't you let it go?" He took in her glare. "Oh wait, I forgot, you're French, you never let anything go."

"Do not hurt her," she warned, before releasing his wrist.

Taking a deep breath, and glancing down the hall to where Catherine was lurking, Richard knocked on Camille's bedroom door. When she opened it, her eyes were red and he knew she'd been crying. Again he felt guilt at causing her pain.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

"Last time I heard those words, things didn't quite go as I'd hoped," she replied.

"I know. And..." He glanced down the hall again. "Look can I come in? I think your mother's deciding which is the best way to kill me."

"Sure." She stepped back to let him in before closing the door again.

"This morning, I was an idiot," he said. "Again. I was shocked, I didn't know what to say or do. I'm not exactly sure I'm great parent material. I don't know the first thing about children."

"Neither do I," she replied.

"I know. I realised that about an hour ago."

"For a brilliant detective sometimes you can be really slow," she teased, and Richard found himself smiling.

"I know," he agreed. "I also seem to have a habit of putting my foot in it then having to ask for second chances."

"So, you want a second chance again?"

"Yes. Please. I'm not going anywhere."

"My father said that. Then six years later he announces he's not ready to be a father, as if I didn't exist. Then we find out he has another family."

"Am I anything like him?"

"No."

"I'm not going to walk out. I might be a terrible parent and make every mistake there is and you might hate me for it, but I won't leave. Not unless you tell me to."

"We'll make mistakes together," she smiled, crossing the room. "And I will never hate you." Camille put her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder as they hugged.

"Will you come back to work now?" Richard asked eventually.

"Miss me?" she teased.

"Yes. Dwayne's got two girlfriends and he's driving me mad."

Camille laughed. "Okay."

As they walked towards the office, she turned to him and asked, "Did I really hear you tell my mother to put away the voodoo dolls?"


End file.
